Seeking The Prey
by Thunderman88
Summary: Vittorio Ansaldi, captain of the Italian army, one of the five Panzer Aces, the living legends of Panzerkraft... everyone knows who he is and what he has done. But few know that, since his unexpected defeat, he's also a deeply troubled man, and that he believes that the answers to his woes can be found in a match against Miho Nishizumi and her team... Please review!
1. Prologue

I don't own Girls Und Panzer.

Introduction

"Could you please repeat what you just said?"

"It's as I told you, sir. The Saunders Team was defeated. By the Ooarai High School tanks."

The lips of the tall man seated behind the desk curved in a silent whistle.

"That is... unexpected. They have constantly scored quite highly, and to be dealt an immediate defeat by such an unknown enemy... I suppose you brought me the files, haven't you?"

The NCO answered by placing the files right before his superiors, before returning to his usual, martial stance. But an eye who knew him well could tell that what he had read had obviously unnerved him.

Carefully, the tall officer leaned on the files, flipping the pages slowly and scanning the lines with his piercing blue eyes.

"Ah-Ha!" His finger pointed blatantly at the first page. "It seems the Ooarai team use quite a variety of tanks, out of necessity. Can't blame them, we know one or two things about necessity ourselves. Yet, this makes the work more difficult for their enemies!"

The NCO nodded curtly. "Yes, sir, that's the same thing that occurred to me. Using one or two tank models in battle makes them easier to handle because they have the same strengths and weaknesses, but this makes them easier to battle. Variety instead forces the opponent to vary his tactics according to each model, and this..."

A brief silence ensued. The officer sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Of course, to use such disparate tanks to the best, their commander must be either a natural or incredibly skilled. The present case being..." He trailed off, then his head snapped up, surprise making his mustache tremble. "Nishizumi? That clears it. She can probably handle those vehicles like a puppet master! And she must be charismatic, too, if she manages to slug it out with those Shermans with such raw manpower... historians, volleyball players, freshmen..."

The man before him squirmed, feeling uneasy by the sparkle he saw in those eyes, and by the tone with which that name sounded. "There is no doubt that she is more than worthy of her name, sir. Yet, her team still lacks experience, so..."

"So, they're ideal!" A gloved fist slammed on the closed files, and a feral grin appeared below the mustache. "Vincenzi, gather the men. We're off!"

Vincenzi jumped a little, his fears having been prove right. Yet again. "Captain, sir, you can't possibly mean... you know this will attract a lot of attention we don't need. Besides, just because they managed that, it doesn't mean they should prove a threat..."

But it was a lost cause. Because it had been years since Captain Vittorio Ansaldi, war veteran, tank destroyer ace and (but this bit of information wasn't exactly public) deeply troubled man, had listened to reason. Now he only listened to his desire.

"Sergeant, we will depart as soon as possible. With all the vehicles and the equipment. And that's final."

Vincenzi stood there, lamenting once again the sad fate of his beloved commander. But he couldn't bring himself to disobey an order. Slowly, he saluted, and exited the room.

Ansaldi slowly turned around. From the wall, littered with framed press cuttings, he picked in his hand one of the most important. One which he often observed, and over which he often pondered.

"UNFORESEEN COLLAPSE OF THE 'ITALIAN FALCON' : THE SNIPER OUTSNIPED"

Two pictures under the title showed respectively the sad defeat of a tank destroyer, from which a charred hole had punched out life and fighting spirit, and a tall man in a carrista suite, his head bowed in shame, his hand clutching a tanker's headgear.

"They will think it's for revenge." Ansaldi said matter-of-factly. "But that's wrong. I don't want to fight your niece because you, Mihoko, were the one that defeated me. It's because I want the best; and now I know she is."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 : A Purpose Unknown

"Excuse me for disturbing you!"

Captain Ami Chono turned around quite irritated. In fact, she hated being disturbed, especially when she was attending to her training duties.

But a second later, all irritation had vanished, and only her years' worth of practice and discipline allowed her to keep her jaw from crashing on the floor.

Because she hadn't in front of her an ordinary man (even if he was a good 6-foot 4" tall) on his fifties. She had in front of her nothing short of a living legend.

Snapping on attention, she saluted. "Captain Ami Chono, JDF, Training corps. At your service, sir!"

Captain Vittorio Ansaldi smiled a bit and returned a proper salute. "At ease, Captain. I hold your same rank, and I think it was a bad idea not to wait for the training to be over!"

"There is no problem at all. To what do I owe this unexpected honour and pleasure?"

The tall Italian strode forwards towards the railing, and he grabbed the binoculars hanging on his chest. "I was told the Sensha-do training was underway, and I thought I might climb up and watch beside you, if you don't mind."

That wasn't the true answer she was looking for, but for the moment it could do. "No objection. Our crews are currently undergoing firing training!"

The two picked up their instruments, and focused on the distant images of the disparate tanks that made up the formation; then on the targets upon which they were firing.

After a while, Ansaldi spoke up. "If what I read about almost everyone on this tanks being rookies mere weeks ago is true, I am most impressed. Remarkable precision." He paused for a while, then, lowering his binoculars, he went on. "Especially from the Panzer IV!"

It wasn't a mere observation, it was an invitation. And Ami answered accordingly. "Yes. It's the tank of Team A. The team commanded by Miho Nishizumi." After a split second of uncertainty, she added : "Are you here for her?" She hadn't been trained in the Nishizumi school without knowing its connection with the officer beside her.

The 'carrista' sighed and turned towards her, leaning on the railing, and all of a sudden he appeared to her eyes weaker and older than normal. "You are a most clever woman, Captain. But, while my answer is true, it isn't so in the sense you are expecting."

Lifting his head up to meet the puzzled look on Ami's face, he sighed again, deeply. "Maybe I should just explain you everything, so you might make up your own mind."

/

As soon as everyone got out from the tanks' hatches, after finishing the training, they could tell something odd was happening. Their instructor's demeanor was undoubtedly shaken, and for someone who had arrived parachuting from an Army airplane and crushing the Principal's car with her tank without even bothering to apologize, it meant something big.

The answer arrived soon. After the usual compliments on their performance (but without the usual glance in Momo's direction, since she still didn't manage to control her temper and aim accurately before firing), Ami went on in a tone that was thousands of miles away from her usual, self-assured and martial.

"We have an unannounced and unexpected visitor today. Someone who would like very much to be introduced to you, and whose presence here is a great honour to all of us."

Right on cue, the above average tall frame of Ansaldi appeared at her left, striding forwards from the hangar's shadows. But the rest of the announcement, together with his name, was lost on everyone. And not because Miho, instantly recognizing that face, jumped up a bit in surprise; but because Yukari, who had connected the high status name to that face even before than her commander, went into overdrive almost immediately.

"CAPTAIN VITTORIO ANSALDI! THE 'ITALIAN FALCON' AND THE 'DEVIL SNIPER'! ONE OF THE FIVE VETERAN PANZER ACES! KAWAIIIII!" And, before anyone had the chance of restraining her, she made a grasshopper-style jump and hugged her hero like her life depended on it.

Any possibility of order and discipline vanished, as the surprise of having such a legend right before their eyes compounded with the utter shock at their companion's overjoyed behavior. It was hard to say what was the critical factor, though : even Team D's members had heard about the five 'Panzer Aces', veteran tankers that back in the day had risen to legendary and almost invincible status. And even now, when the martial art had gradually shifted towards female only participants, and in an academy whose interest in Panzerkraft had somewhat faded, those names were still pronounced in an unforgettable tone. They simply were for Panzerkraft what Babe Ruth was for baseball or Pelé was for football.

Amongst those, Captain Vittorio Ansaldi was especially famous for being cooler than the South Pole itself. And he quickly proved that, after a moment's bewilderment, when he smiled down at the girl crushing her ribs and said : "I am not against some degree for excitement and eagerness, but would you please...?"

Those words, neither irritated nor embarrassed, snapped Yukari's head back to reality, and her face went redder than a tomato. Hurrying back, she gave a deep bow and stuttered : "E-Excuse me, I was just..."

"No need to excuse yourself, I know something about being overenthusiastic myself. Although I must confess I didn't expect to cause such a commotion, since it's been some years since I last appeared in public!" The Italian turned his head and, noticing a familiar frame, politely nodded towards an all too familiar girl. "Ah, Miss Nishizumi. I believe you might remember me."

Miho blushed and returned the nod. "Yes, I do remember you, Captain. I trust you are well?"

"Reasonably well, thank you. I'm quite surprised, actually; you were little more than a child when we met." The young girl noticed that nothing appeared in his eyes when he mentioned that occasion, even if it was a devastating day for him.

Captain Chono coughed discreetly, and a semblance of order was gradually restored, even if some of the girls were still whispering to each other, and most of them were looking at the man with eyes bigger than life.

When Ansaldi spoke again, all the girls fell silent. "I apologize for any inconvenience I may be causing with my unannounced visit, but it was a decision taken at the last minute. However, I couldn't help but be intrigued by such results coming from a relatively unknown Academy, even with..." He glanced toward Miho, "...with such assistance. I assisted to your training, and my impression was confirmed. You are all quite inexperienced, but your potential is quite high."

He paused for a moment, a look of worry on his voice, then he pursed his lips and went on : "I pride myself on being honest, therefore I will say that I didn't come here just to compliment you on your achievements. In fact, I am here to watch closely the development and the outcome of your next battles. And if my belief on your skill will be confirmed..." His eyes scanned all the faces, sparkling with a certain something that made everyone shudder, without realizing why. "...If that will be the case, I will issue you a formal challenge to a tank battle!"

/

The only two persons not to remain thunderstruck by such an announcement were Ami (who had already guessed it) and Miho (who could easily guess it, not having been born into an illustrious Sensha-do family for nothing). The two of them merely looked up at him with a mixture of worry and perplexity.

But the other went absolutely ballistic. And, for anyone who could have maintained a certain degree of attention, the raised eyebrows of Mako and her open mouth would have been the last confirmation of the bombshell that had exploded, and had turned their new world upside down.

"YOU MUST BE JOKING!" Yukari's shriek would have pierced their tanks' armor, had it been directed against it.

"THIS IS PREPOSTEROUS! NO ONE CAN SHOW UP AND ISSUE CHALLENGES LIKE THIS! WE WON'T ALLOW..." The most vocal was of course Momo; not even in battle had the others seen there in such an agitated state. And this time even Anzu was too surprised to make her cool off (but this time she might have seconded her, knowing that this turn of events didn't quite fit in their plans).

The tall Italian raised a hand, requesting to speak again. That mere gesture had the effect of swiftly reducing the noise, till only a still stunned silence remained.

"Your reaction is understandable; in fact, I believe it may be the first time such a challenge may have been announced... I'm saying 'announced' because, as you might have noticed, I am merely telling that I could, in the foreseeable future, challenge you to a battle." His words were plain and in no way harsh, yet there was no question over the seriousness of his tone.

"But isn't it against the rules?" The situation was so unexpected it was no one other that Hana to voice that objection. And Ansaldi nodded to her.

He confirmed : "Yes, theoretically such an event would be prevented by Rule Thirty-Four, Title 2 of the Rulebook. However, as the other Panzer Aces, I enjoy a lifetime exemption from abiding to those, and other rules, as your expert should be able to tell you."

All eyes went to Yukari, who lowered her head, and in a small voice said : "Yes... he has any right to challenge us. We can't deny that!"

Quickly, before their spirits got even lower, the Italian pointed out : "Although, if I may, it is not meant in any part of my exemption that such a challenge has to be accepted. In fact, it can be refused with proper motivation, and I think that there would be enough reasons for you to reject my request without any dishonour." Those voice were directed to Miho, who bit her lip and turned her head.

A sigh came out of the older man, and once again an odd sense of fragility surrounded his figure. He passed his hand through his gray hair, muttering : "Listen, I know this is hardly ideal. And I know right now I must sound really crazy to you, but... when I look at every single one of you, I see something that I've seen more and more sporadically in my years of Panzerkraft : passion, and relish. That, and such a degree of capabilities that in my eyes make you an opponent realistically capable of defeating me! This is the only reason I feel justified of revealing such an irrational intention to you, because not even in my worst days I thought even for a split second to fight against anyone I didn't sincerely thought could defeat me!" The somewhat confused and contrasting emotions in his voice were proof enough of his sincerity.

Looks were exchanged between the teams. Miho looked up at Erwin; she glanced at Noriko; she fixed her gaze on Azusa; and she finally settled it on Anzu. On each face she saw etched the same indecision and legitimate fear she felt at the moment. And it would have been criminal not to feel in such a way; not even the craziest and most reckless Panzerkraft team would have welcomed the idea of slugging it out with a Panzer Ace without chattering their teeth. And yet, such a challenge was also a token of the highest respect one could receive in the world of Panzerkraft; rejecting it would have had consequences, even in such an absurd situation.

Some seconds of silence followed, as the setting sun was setting fire to the western part of the sky. The tanks, empty and silent, were an appropriate background for such an assembling, as silent witnesses to the exchange, waiting to know their ultimate fates.

At last, Captain Ansaldi stood at attention and bowed his head curtly. "I am truly sorry to have caused you such discomfort. But I stand firm in my conviction that you could very well be up to the task of facing me on an equal footing; and I will wait for the next matches to confirm or discredit such belief. But, while renewing my statement that nothing obliges you to accept an eventual challenge, I assure you that I will not do anything except watch your battles till you reach the finals. Until then, I sincerely wish you luck!"

And with that, he strode between their ranks, making for the exit. But then he suddenly stopped; turning around towards Miho, he said clearly : "Miss Nishizumi, I can assure you that, in announcing my intentions, there is no connection between those and the fact that I was defeated by your aunt years ago." Ignoring the gasps and the astounded expressions, he added : "I am not doing this to avenge or to cancel a past defeat. I am doing this because I believe you might be the only adversary capable of offering me what I seek in the battlefield!"

And he turned again and walked off into the growing shadows of the sunset, almost relieved to disappear into them.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 : Knowing the Enemy

"He's here!"

Saori's announcement didn't catch anyone by surprise. It was a given that he should be there, watching.

Miho looked up towards where Saori's finger was pointed, and saw Ansaldi in an unconspicuous civilian outfit, peacefully puffing from his pipe. The figure smiled warmly, took out the pipe and lifted it up as an informal salute. She hesitantly waved her hand in response.

"I know I shouldn't, but he makes me nervous!" her ginger-haired teammate complained loudly. Everyone looked at her, and it was clear that she wasn't the only one with that peculiar problem. Even the unflappable president of the Student Council wasn't her usual careless self.

Looking at their worried faces, Miho suddenly felt the urge to rise their morale; this wasn't going to be an easy match, and they needed convinction as much as they needed brains. So she suddenly spoke up : "Everyone!" After an awkward moment, when everyone glared at her, she went on : "I know it's going to be unnerving, but we have to proceed as if he weren't here. We cannot allow ourselves the distraction, we need to concentrate to win this match!"

It was satisfying to see that her improvised speech had a certain effect on them. "That's right! If the menace of an enemy is enough to weaken your resolve, how can you call yourself a warrior?" shouted boldly Erwin. "By winning this battle, we shall show him his name is not enough to bring us to our knees!" echoed Caesar. "YES!" the rest of them shouted.

His eyes transfixed on the hodgepodge assembly of tanks that represented Ooarai's school, Ansaldi heard the shout and smiled approvingly. He was aware that his presence might unnerve the girls, but if they were to show qualities worthy of standing up to his, they needed to overcome that. And it looked like they just did.

The buzz of many mumbled conversations didn't bother him, it was preventivated. He couldn't reasonably hope to show up, even in an uncompromising outfit as the tweed he was wearing at the moment, at a Sensha-Do tournament match, and not cause an alarming level of curiosity to be sparked. The price of fame.

"Excuse me?" He turned his head, and saw exactly what he had guessed : some guys from a Panzerkraft-following TV channel, complete with camera and microphone. "You are Captain Vittorio Ansaldi, aren't you?" "I sure am!" he answered curtly. The poor lad who was hoding the microphone gathered all his courage and asked weakly : "Would you mind... if we interviewed him? For our viewers, the..." A hand and a smile interrupted him. "Go ahead, I'd be happy to!"

With a breahted thank you, the newsman gave a thumbs-up sign to his buddies, who prepped up the camera. After the customary three-fingers wait, the well-know lithany began. "Here, on the 4th Panzer Ground facility, I have the honour and pleasure to sit beside someone who doesn't need any kind of presentation. A man whose influence and skill in Panzerkraft are universally known, one of the legendary Panzer Aces... Captain Vittorio Ansaldi!" The camera flashed on the Italian's face, who nodded and waved hello.

"A quite unexpected pleasure, I must say, because it's been some time since the Italian Falcon's last appearance on such an occasion, even as a spectator. Might we inquire as to the reason of this?" As the microphone neared his mouth, Ansaldi thought of asking the man to stop being so damn formal, but decided it wouldn't yield results. So he merely answered : "Of course. I am going to assist to the forthcoming match of the Japanese Sensha-Do Tournament, between the teams of Ooarai High School and Anzio High School, for the simple reason that the skill shown by the former has mightily impressed me!"

"Is that so?" He could see the disbelief on the newsman's eyes, so he nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. I have reviewed the data from the previous two matches it fought, counting also a friendly match against St. Gloriana's Academy, and such was the surprise that I knew I had to act immediately, and watch closely over such a promising team." For a second, hesitation interrupted the flow of words; while he had made clear with Ami that he had no intention of keeping his intentions a secret, was he right in spilling the beans so quickly? He quickly made up his minds and continued : "In fact, I think I may announce that if such promise is kept in the next matches, I have the intention of issuing a formal challenge to the Ooarai High School team!"

For the next two seconds, the camera ran a huge risk of hitting the floor at a dangerous speed, such was the surprise etched on everyone's faces. He sighed and quickly added : "This might seem an absurd announcement, given my current status as a discontinued Panzerkraft participand, and given the reputation I still enjoy; but I believe, and I think that the near future won't prove me wrong, that such a team is capable of meeting myself and my teammates in a fair battle. In fact, I firmly believe that they will prove they are skilled enough even to defeat me!"

The girls noticed the commotion over the spectators' place only after they had met the enemy's commander, Anchovy, and listened to her harsh words against Miho. But they almost didn't consider it : their minds were set on the task on hand. Defeating the Anzio team as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

As the various tanks rolled up towards the starting position, the two teams divided by a steep ridge with only a passage in its middle, Yukari commented : "The only serious problem we'll face will be hitting the enemy tankettes. They are so small they are difficult to shoot, if at speed!" In her usual tone, Mako replied : "If they are so nimble, pray they don't try to ram us!" The idea, quite disturbing, was met by an apprehensive silence. "If I remember correctly... it was a tactic sometimes used by the Italian tankers in the early days of the Western Desert Campaign; perhaps the enemy could..." The commander looked thoughtful, then shook her head. "No. If anything, they'll serve as bait for some ambush. I think their commander would regard such strategy as 'cowardly', other than self-destructive!"

They didn't have to wait much to verify it. Sending Teams B and E to recon ahead, they saw the enemy occupying the pass; while returning towards the main line, they were indeed ambushed by the Italian tankettes, supported by two M13/40. Ansaldi, his eyes transfixed on the screen, only moved a muscle to puff some smoke. But that was a reflex : every bit of his attention was on the match, and the tactics. Not that those were difficult to extrapolate : considering the situation, an ambush was the best choice Anchovy could have made, and sacrificing the L3s to lure the enemy made them almost useful.

Almost. As soon as he had heard about the Anzio lineup, his innards twitched (not his exterior, because he had trained it for a long time); even when he was a complete rookie, and the Italian tank school was considered the worst in the world, not even in their lowest point had they used such pathetic excuses of a tank. Agile as they were, fast as they were, small as they were, they simply were powerless against any enemy they faced. True, they had sometimes used the L6, but they were at least comparable with other light tanks as the Stuart or the T70 or the Panzer II; when he had climbed his way up to command, he had put all light tanks in storage, and gone all out with medium tanks and Semoventi. And he had forgotten all about the 'swarm' tactics his predecessors used, to favour a more rigid, powerful concept.

Without any surprise he saw the L3s being taken out swiftly and surely by the Ooarai's tanks, and without any surprise he saw that the lure had been almost successful. Again, almost, because Miho wouldn't have fallen in such a transparent trap. However, this was the time when the Semoventi and the P40 would begin to speak; this could prove somewhat challenging.

As the shells rained around Ooarai's vanguard, amongst the small explosions of the 47 mm shells the far bigger and stronger explosions of 75 mm shells could be easily distinguished. The Semoventi were admonishing them they were more than willing to prove their gun's worth on their armour; and this was a risk too big for any of them to handle.

Yet, as they fought back, there was no sign of things going bad. Moreover, when Team D knocked out an M tank, their excited screams of triumph were overpowering; too bad that the shell that immediately after pierced their side armour was overpowering too. As the customary white flag shot up, everyone looked up, and saw the triumphant silhouette of the P40, its gun still smoking from the bullseye.

"Retreat!" called Miho. It was useless to try and charge the enemy, making easy targets as they towered over them. As Teams B and C fell back, the former trying to protect the latter (it was their flag tank after all), the Anzio tanks fired again and again, but they only managed to scratch the paint of the StuG. As they reformed the formation, Erwin asked over the radio : "What are your orders?" Mako said : "Do we have to go up there and try to dislodge them?" The question was tricky : climbing up again would prove potentially fatal, even if Anzio's aim wasn't exactly flawless. Miho looked from the cupola, saw dust being lifted towards the high ground, and nodded. "Don't worry about that." she said. "Anzio is going towards us!"

Any remaining consideration of the worth of the Anzio commander left the Panzer Ace's mind as soon as he saw the tanks rolling down the pass. Typical, he thought. Instead of showing patience and make the enemy come to them, Anchovy chose to seize the opportunity and capitalize on their supposed weakened spirits. Fat chance.

He mentally nodded as he saw Ooarai reforming its line to meet the enemy as it went down. And he kept approving as he saw the counter-ambush, carefully laid, with every tank careful not to waste such a chance.

One by one, the remaining Anzio tanks were taken out. Last, was Anchovy's tank, whose armour had proved enough to deflect Momo's and Akebi's shots; at last, she had proven to be quite determined, as she relentlessly tried to get one good shot at the StuG, thereby winning the match. Its furious maneuvers, however, were cut short by a masterful shot on Sana's part; the only instance when the Italian commander showed some outward emotion and nodded vigorously.

As Miho led her victorious teammates back towards the cheering public, she was both flustered and worried as she saw Ansaldi's tall figure, the pipe still firmly planted in his mouth, heartily clapping his hands. She made a note on the effect it had on the others : all were proud and smiling from such a compliment, even if a hint of worry could be see in their eyes.

A noise of trucks interrupted her thoughts; the defeated Anzio tanks were being taken away to be repaired, ingloriously humble. As the crew of the Italian-themed academy strode on the ground, some clapping was heard, but it was just for the record. Everyone felt they had turned a disappointing performance; and their commander felt that too, if her demeanor and her devastated expression meant anything.

The silence thickened when the Italian commander left the stands and went down to the ground. He marched up right towards Anchovy, and stopped when he towered on her; his hand was clapping his pipe, and his eyes were fixed on the defeated girl. She bowed her head; his expression remained the same. After a second, he let out a grunt, and touched her shoulder with his other hand. And then, like an ancient oracle he spoke.

"Your tactic and your command style is flawed." After one or two seconds of anguished silence, he went on : "But you have potential. Keep training, and you might win your next match!" His white teeth audibly gritted his pipe, as his arm dramatically pointed to the tankettes, infamous in Italy for bearing the name of a brand of canned food. "But please, lose immediately the Arrigoni! They aren't worth the fuel they gargle up!"

And with that, he left, leaving Anchovy very confused, but somewhat relieved. And in the silence, Saori's sentence boomed like thunder : "Isn't he prodigiously cute?" As per the script, Mako was quick to reverse the score. "Isn't he a bit old for you?"

If there was any better way to end a battle than laughing, not even Ansaldi knew it.


	4. Chapter 3

Sorry, today the chapter is shorter than usual. I'm struggling to find the best and better readable style I can come up with. So please bear with me!

I still don't own anything about Girls Und Panzer, apart from my characters.

Chapter 3 : Rest & Reading

The big package sat still on the table, right in the middle of the workshop. And every single pair of eyes in the room was scanning it, as if waiting for something to happen; perhaps waiting for it to explode.

Not that they weren't accostumed to receive mail. A steadily increasing legion of supporters, even outside the school, had made sure they weren't deprived of moral support.

It was the fact that the sender, as specified on the package, was none other than a certain European captain whose presence had thrown their world in disarray.

"This is ridicolous!" Typical for Momo to startle all of them, as she lunged forward, grabbed the package and determinedly began to shred the envelope.

When she opened the box, however, she stopped. It was clear she was mightily confused, even if she was trying (miserably) not to look like it.

Miho timidly took one or two steps and glanced inside; she furrowed her brow, as her hand went inside and returned with a large, formal-looking book that looked like a register log. Its title, in a clearly academic font, was "Raggruppamento Ariete : Equipment and Personnel".

"What is it, Nishizumi-dono?" Yukari asked, immediately springing to the side of the subject of her adoration. She watched as their commander browsed through the pages.

"Data. Technical and statistical data about Ansaldi's team, its vehicles and its crews." Miho answered, uncertainly. "A complete and accurate description of every single match fought by Ansaldi over the years, complete with notes and recommendations!"

Anzu scratched her head. "Is it normal? I mean, for the challenger, to send such sensible data to its would-be opponent?" Yes, that would have put the world back on its foundations...

It was Yukari's turn to scratch that possibility. "No. Never heard of it happening before!"

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Broken by Hana's suggestion : "Well, given that he sent it to us, we better put this data to good use!"

Saori confirmed energetically : "Right! If he did this, it's because he wants us to be at our best when we face him!"

"So, what do they say?" Erwin asked Miho, who was still eyeing the log.

"Well..."

/

"Vehicles in use as of 2012 :

- 4 (four) Semoventi M43 da 105/25 (the latest wartime SPG project of Italy, a quite small, and therefore very suitable for ambushes, Semovente armed with a 105 mm field gun, not overly precise but deadly at near-to-medium ranges);

- 4 (four) Semoventi M42T da 75/46 (pretty much the same as above, with the only difference being the main gun, a 75 mm AA gun adapted to anti-tank use, roughly comparable to the KwK 40 of the Panzer IV - included in the total the flag tank commanded by Ansaldi);

- 4 (four) Carri Armati P43bis (never gone beyond the wooden simulacrum during the war, a project that took the P40 concept even further, enlarging it, giving it a ticker 80 mm frontal armour, a more powerful engine, and a much more powerful 90 mm gun, a variant of the anti-air Cannone da 90/53, as powerful as the fearsome German Flak 88, all contributing to a tank comparable to the foreign models);

- 4 (four) Carri Sahariani M16/43 (one prototype completed, it was the Italian counterpart to the British Crusader tank, armed with a good 47 mm gun, but whose main card was its top speed nearing 60 km/h, making it a quite good recon vehicle)."

Even those who had just entered the world of Sensha-Do could understand what all of this meant, by simply looking at Yukari's face.

"So... is it serious?" Anzu's voice was not quite as bored as always.

Their specialist stood silent for a moment, then began in a low voice : "Even if they don't seem much, Ansaldi and his men know how to use their tanks in every situation; and besides, they always said that it didn't matter what they fired, it mattered where they fired. They're all excellent marksmen, and they know everything about every weak spot of all the tanks in the world!"

Caesar let out a whistle. "That bad?"

"Yes! And it's not like they lack firepower : the P43bis has a 90 mm gun that can knock out pretty much any tank, it has the same power as our Tiger Porsche's gun; their Semoventi can be deadly, no matter what gun they have. And the Sahariani are specialists in firing on movement, they have developed quite a knack for systematically hitting the tracks or the fuel tank or anything that is a weak spot!"

"So what? They don't look like especially tough tanks; we hit 'em, and that's it!" Saori pointed out.

Miho intervened : "That's true, Sakebe-san, their armour isn't anything special and they are quite vulnerable. However, they manage to compensate by taking advantage to the utmost of their relatively small figure! Only the P43bis is over 30 tons, the other tanks don't reach 20; they are awfully hard to hit!"

Another moment of silence.

"What does it say about the crews?" Momo finally managed to say, clearly looking to break the thickening discomfort that was building up.

/

"The crews of the Semoventi are all cool people; in meaning they know how to wait and how to take their shot. Ansaldi is one of them, and is by far the best shot. I guess I don't have to tell you more about him..." Yuzu said with a weak smile.

To an unanimous negative gesture, she went on : "Other notable crews are those of Sub-Lieutenant Salvatore Giardinà, commander of the four 105 mm Semoventi; his aim is quite impressive, and he has a history of hidding almost perfectly, attacking the enemy only after achieving surprise!"

She flipped a page. "The P43bis are commanded by Lieutenant Damiano Vanzi, Ansaldi's second-in-command; while good at hiding too, he is by no means incapable of slugging it out in the open, taking advantage of strong points to build a strong and flexible defensive line, and using its 90 mm guns to keep the adversary at bay."

Her voice was cracking up a bit; this wasn't exactly a pleasant reading.

"Lastly, Sub-Lieutenant Jacopo De Castro leads the Carri Sahariani; an expert of off-road driving, he has an instinctive ability for reconing and flanking the enemy, not to mention his success at leading hit-and-run attacks, which in more than a few cases cost the other faction the victory!"

Yuzu was quick to close the log, as if trying to hid such unwelcome informations.

"What were you expecting? They are veterans, and professionals!" Anzu's voice was now quite irritated; she could see the discomfort now morphing into a feeling dangerously similar to fearful awe.

"But do we have any hope of victory, against such experienced adversaries?" Hana questioned aloud.

An answer came, completely unexpected : "Yes!"

Everyone looked up at Miho, whose face was now determined.

"Ansaldi said he believed we could defeat him, and there is no way he was lying. So, I believe we can win!"

Mako, up until now silent, was quick to point out : "Actually, he said he thought you were the only one capable of defeating him!"

Facing her, their field leader countered sharply : "He also said, in another occasion, that a leader is only as good as the rest of his or her team! He wasn't referring just to me!"

Those words, who had an unmistakable ring of truth, had an impressive effect : worried and nearly desperate glances were evicted in favour of more confident and positive expressions. And it wouldn't have been wrong to give part of the merit also to the compliment they had unknowingly received, as Miho had pointed out.

"Are you really convinced? We have a chance?" Momo asked, clearly disbelieving (her facade was clearly struggling).

Miho decided it was time to put an end to all of this. "Yes. But it's too early to worry about it now; Ansaldi also said he wouldn't take a decision until we pass the semifinals, and that is what we should be discussing now!"

And, as the discussion quickly shifted to their next Tournament match, Yukari wondered again what was the limit of Miho's confidence.

/

If it was said that four intimate friends of Ansaldi were reading the same magazine pretty much at the same time, while being thousands of miles apart from one another, it would appear that some other power was at play, conducting our characters like a puppeteer.

But it could also be said that it was just a big coincidence, even if few would believe it.

Anyhow, those four friends were reading the same magazine. And when they reached a certain article, their reactions were identical.

Utter shock, disbelief, even some anger.

The article was talking about the unexpected presence of Ansaldi at the Tournament in Japan, and its declaration about considering issuing a challenge to an unknown team they had never heard before.

Another coincidence, however, was not meant to be; that article would not have been read still by a certain acquaintance of the Italian carrista. An acquaintance who went by the name of Shiho Nishizumi.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 : Reveal thyself

"What do you make of it, Captain?"

The pipe trembled, and was removed from between the lips. "I don't know, Giorgio... they have quite a reputation, and their lineup is formidable, yet... I would've made a few thing differently!"

Sergeant Iannuzzi waited for his superior to go on, knowing already what he would say. He could afford that, after years of being his shadow.

"The T-34 in both variants is a formidable tank against any opposition, if properly used; but I would have thrown in some tank destroyers, perhaps some SU-85 or even SU-100, but I'm totally biased towards SPGs, you know that. Anyway, I wouldn't have taken with me the KV-2; either you take out the enemy by surprise, which is not very likely if you're not a true natural, or you get down in a whiff. A proverbial barnstack, that tank!"

Iannuzzi nodded. "I agree. But the Pravda girls, they seem to know what they're doing."

His captain puffed and shrugged. "Whatever; if Miho plays her hand right, there's no way they can lose!"

But when he next heard his trusted driver, it was in a completely different tone.

"Captain! Over there...!"

His head turned in the direction of Giorgio's arm, and at once his features went stone-like. "Cristo!" he muttered disbelievingly.

He was looking at Shiho Nishizumi. Miho's mother, and a longtime acquaintance of his.

For two or three seconds he sat still, then his features contorted in a smirk. "She can't help but see how her daughter's doing, even if she dishonoured the Black Forest Peak School!" Ansaldi spat out, his voice seething with sarcasm. Knowing what Miho had done in the previous Tournament, he could pretty much guess what could have been her mother's reactions.

The driver squirmed. "What about you, sir? She is going to assume..."

"I know what she's going to assume! But if she even opens her mouth, I'll blast away and reduce her to a nervous wreck! She doesn't have any right to say anything to me!" In his phrases, for those who knew him well enough, there was venom enough to start sweating. Iannuzzi eyed him nervously, trying to decipher his set jaw and his fixed glare.

He couldn't help but pray that his commander's mind would hold on to the end.

/

"This doesn't look good!"

A glare from a couple of stern blue eyes shut him up. "Not a good situation, that is true. But it's not desperate, they can still do it if they have the guts to try it!" Iannuzzi understood : such a stern rebuke meant only that the Captain was quite tense himself. He was probably asking himself if his judgment had been correct, or if he had just taken the first blunder in his renowned career by betting on the wrong horse.

But he had to agree with him, an upset was still possible. Even if the Ooarai tanks were bottled up in the church, with the Pravda tanks cleverly spread out to cover all the escape routes, there were still some cards those girls could play. Not in a particularly original way, the Sergeant would have charged straight up against the strongest enemy concentration, the most unlikely spot, that happened to be right in front of the church, a little on the right. Then, outside of the small village, the smaller and swifter Ooarai tanks could have counterbalanced their lower firepower with their superior speed and maneuverability.

A shiver distracted him. He glanced at the sky, from which snow kept falling indifferently.

"It must be cold out there!"

"As long as they're not cold in the heart!" The officer shot back smirking.

/

"Panzer Vor!"

The Ooarai tanks' engines roared in unison as they went out of the church that was their shelter. And, after apparenlty charging straight into Pravda's trap, they all swerved right, towards the main enemy body.

The degree with which the Pravda girls had let themselves being taken by surprise was demonstrated by their frantic shooting, which yielded no result, as Miho punched a hole through their first line.

While the second line (which included Pravda's trump card, the IS-2) moved in, Ooarai turned left to get out of the village, except for the Panzer 38(t). That earned a sharp nod by Ansaldi, at the other end of the camera; it was the tank with the lowest firepower, but also the smallest and the nimblest, so it was logical to use it to try and confuse the enemy, and perhaps using its 37 mm to hit some weak spot on the hull.

And the President's tank managed to do just that, dispatching two T-34s before getting taken down. Still, it was more than it could be asked from such an outgunned vehicle.

Meanwhile, the match was quickly becoming a race; especially after Miho's Panzer IV, together with the StuG III, cleverly disengaged and turned back to flush Pravda's flag tank.

"Interesting!" was a comment uttered through teeth clenched around a pipe.

It wasn't that much different from a chess match too close for comfort. Both parties almost had the main objective in their crosshairs, and anything could have happened. A sudden breakdown, a false move, really anything, and victory would decide itself.

"Gesù! Look at that thing!" Ansaldi almost yelled excitedly, so excitedly that his companion looked towards the screen one second late, to take a good look at his face. The StuG III had suddenly come to a stop, turning backwards as it did so and being covered by snow as it ground to a halt. Now it made the perfect trap, when the enemy would return around there.

"We didn't do that many matches in the snow, but I wish we could have done that!" approved the Italian tanker, and Giorgio couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly for once; in this business, any level of concealment was never enough.

The question was, could it take out the flag T-34 before that horribly precise IS-2 could take out the Type 89B? It had already picked off the covering tanks, and its aim was very good, considering the speed of the tank and the visibility.

Ansaldi's jaw crashed down on the pipe's mouthpiece.

Two shots echoed in different part of the battlefield. Two shells found their mark.

And...

After a painstaking wait, the flag T-34 signalled his defeat with the usual white flag, while the old Japanese tank had miraculously survived (but not quite unscathed) the fury of the Stalin tank.

Ansaldi was perhaps the very first person to jump up and begin clapping. And all the while, relief and satisfaction poured out of his face.

"All right! That was spectacular!" he declared to his driver, crushing his left shoulder with his hand.

/

All Ooarai's girls were so accostumed to his presence that, if Ansaldi hadn't showed up, they would have felt disappointed.

But there he was, giving them a thumbs up with a warm smile.

Smile that fled when a certain voice reached him.

"Captain Ansaldi!" Shiho thundered, with enough ice in her voice to make an iceberg shiver.

"Lady Nishizumi!" Vittorio answered with cold politeness, bowing slightly.

She eyed him ferociously. "Is it true, that you have the intention of challenging my... youngest daughter to a Sensha-Do match?"

The barely finished match was already forgotten, as all eyes went to the couple of Panzerkraft heroes.

Ansaldi said slowly and clearly : "Before this match, I was uncertain. After having seen it, I have no doubt : as soon as the Finals will have taken place, I will issue my challenge to your daughter. If I will fight her, it will be her own decision!"

Miho couldn't have told what gave her the sharpest pang; her mother's attitude (and noteworthy hesitation before the word 'daughter'), or Ansaldi's announcement.

"I cannot allow that!" Shiho stated sternly.

The Italian didn't flinch, his hand clutching the pipe. "If I do remember correctly, your daughter is no longer part of the Kuromorimine Girls High School; therefore, you no longer have the power to decide which matches she must fight and which matches she mustn't."

Shiho's fists were so tight that her knuckles were whiter than the snow. She barely uttered : "But you still answer to the rules of honesty! And you cannot issue a challenge to my daughter, to avenge your defeat at the hands of my sister..."

She stopped dead in her tracks, and with reason. Ansaldi's eyes had blazed up, like light blue flames. He slowly took out the pipe from his mouth, and, with a tone that betrayed an intense irritation bordering on rage, he answered : "You are wrong, Lady Nishizumi, if you believe my intention here is to avenge my defeat years ago.

There is nothing to avenge; I was defeated, and nothing will change that. I won't say it didn't have repercussions, because it would be lying," At this point, a murmur echoed around, "but if you really believe me to be such a man, then I'm afraid you really know me quite poorly!"

With that, he turned on his heels, and started going down the bleachers. Then, as if rethinking it, he stopped, turned to face Shiho and told her : "I am going to challenge your daughter, whether you like it or not. So, please, don't disturb me anymore; I have enough issue to contend with already!"

And, followed by his worried driver, he walked away. But those who weren't surprised enough to dull their senses were able to see how he brought a hand to his forehead, wincing.

Then, after some silence...

Mako suddenly said : "This is beginning to look like a soap opera!"

/

Judging by the way he slammed the door, every single member of the Raggruppamento Ariete understood at once which way the wind was blowing. The captain was overly pissed.

But not pissed enough to miss their peculiar glances, and their nervous attitude. Without talking, furrowing his brow, he looked at Damiano, his right-hand man.

"Captain. There are some visitors." he said in a tone that spelled trouble.

And four big troubles were produced by the shadows of the uncertain lights. Four frames and four faces that were all too familiar for him.

"Perfect!" Ansaldi mumbled to himself, annoyance really starting to get the better of him.

He had knocked over a conceited woman who couldn't stop him from doing what he wanted.

But now there were four Panzer Aces who looked like they might want to do just that (and the problem was that they could).

His pipe forgotten in his hand, he eyed each one of them. They all looked determined, but not too much hostile; he might pull it off.

Taking a big breath to calm his squirming heart, the living legend began : "Let's talk!"


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 : Explanations or Confessions

Ansaldi's old instructor used to quip : "You want to get in these tanks, you got to learn how to be stubborn, or you ain't getting anywhere!"

It had taken him a very brief amount of time to receive more than enough confirmation. Tankers tended to be stubborn alright.

But now, surrounded by his friends and colleagues, he had never regretted this fact more.

On his right, Bernhard Loehner was eyeing him intently with his grey eyes, while resting his chin on his left hand. Quite small and tiny, he had earned long ago the moniker 'der verdammt kleiner', back when he was on the commander's seat of his trusty Panther, and reaping enemy after enemy without hate but with plenty of disturbing precision. And, as homage to his habit of cheerfully stuffing his belly with beer and bratwurst all the time he wasn't fighting or practicing, he had also earned the nickname "The Happy Reaper".

Right before him, his hands firmly set on the small table, and his eyes glaring from above two very plump cheeks, stood the massive dark-haired frame of Herbert Cross, the rudest Englishman Vittorio knew. Hironically enough, his prominent stomach was large, but not as large as his fame as "The Last Cavalryman". His refusal to use anything that even looked like an infantry tank had gotten him to develop a fast, weeping tactic ideal for the cruiser tanks he used, like the Cromwell or the Comet, the one he used himself with a proportionate hatch of course. He was as quick and agile on tracks as much slow and cumbersome on his two feet.

At his left, sat apparently oblivious to anything the "Weird Russian". He had such a name because, for something who was looking for a stereotypical tall, broad and simple-minded Russian hunk, Oleg Stepanovich Yerematev was an utter shock. Thinner than a tree branch, his elongated face often gave an impression of mildness and gentleness, a very wrong impression for anyone who had entered the field against him and his team, led by his fearsome IS-3. Also, he had proven to be capable of so much more than just overwhelm the enemy with numbers, per standard Russian tactics.

Ansaldi couldn't see the fourth man, but he could feel him like an impending storm. George Younger was another anomaly : a brilliant mind in a resilient body, he could have gotten out to Harvard to take a place in some big-name lawyer's firm. Instead, he chose to get out with his degree to end up right into a tank. With always perfect blonde hair and dark, sad eyes, meditative and with a distinct slow speech, he had shown to anyone who had challenged him that he and his powerful Super Pershing were all but slow while in battle. His knack to choose to test wild tactics and tricks had led his instructor to dub him "The Devil's Advocate", a nickname that had proven itself even too modest for him.

Every single one of them was a legend in his own right. And every single one of them dearly valued Ansaldi's friendship; friendship earned with the sweat of battle, and with other ways not quite about tanks.

And right then, Vittorio was certain that this friendship was going to explode right in his face.

"Well, nothing to say?" the Italian burst, quite irked. A good twenty minutes of explaining every single consideration about his decision, and all he got was silence.

"Mate, you aren't going to like any bloody word of what we are about to say!" Herbert apologized, waving hands disturbingly similar to knuckles of ham.

"That would be the simple fact that, even if you explained everything, you told us all of the reasons you want to do this, we still don't understand you a bit!" Oleg didn't even look at him while he uselessly remarked that.

Ansaldi had the urge to slam his fist on the table. Instead, he offered : "Alright, and we all know that, even if you guys are retired, you wield enough influence on the League that, the moment you phone them and tell that you're not so certain about me, in ten minutes I'll get a notice that I cannot issue my challenge, blah-blah-blah!"

This got him a few nods. They were getting someplace : all the cards were on the table, now it was time to play them.

A lanky body advanced towards the table, while George's voice slowly began : "We don't like such an idea, also because we get how important this thing is for you. Nevertheless, I don't understand how you can be so absolutely certain that fighting this one match would get you the peace you hope!"

"Indeed!" approved Bernhard, leaning on his chair. "Would you care to elaborate, Vittorio?" The tone was not that serious, the eyes were even more serious.

The Italian sighed. "Fair enough. But..." The palms of his hands showed helplessness. "I don't think I can explain it to you!"

Four pair of eyes met each other. And then returned towards Vittorio as he went on : "But I do think this can do the trick!"

He had produced a flash drive, which he hooked into the laptop. The dark monitor in the room flared to life.

"Enjoy those. Registration of Ooarai High School's previous matches!"

/

As soon as the last minute of the recording had played out, those eyes went to the floor or the ceiling, according to anyone's preferences.

Vittorio didn't move a muscle. He had made his move, now it was time to wait and have faith that his friends would feel what he had been unable to express with words.

After slow minutes of silent meditation, Herbert was the first to let out a grunt and straighten up. The others followed suit.

Oleg opened his mouth to talk, but for a few moments he looked for words. Then he said : "Interesting. Now I believe I do understand a little better why you are so keen on challenging her!"

Reluctantly, George nodded. "Yes. I thought they were being a little bit lucky, but this..." He waved at the monitor. "This shows they are really something!"

Bernhard let out a little chuckle. "Never thought they could be such a motley crew and do something like that! That's the way to surprise us, poor obsolete tank guys!"

He mockingly swatted the arm of his friend, which answered with a small grin.

Vittorio for a moment let his guard down and hoped for the best. Wrong move. "However, as impressive as that was, there is something that's still missing..." Herbert pointed out, a finger lifted up as the surprise warning.

All eyes went on the British tanker; he grinned, and sweetly said : "You said you gave them all the technical details. Did you provide them with...?"

"No!" Ansaldi interrupted, his moustache flat as a level. There was no gain in denying the truth.

George's eyebrows went up. Caressing his chin, he commented : "Then, I believe that we all agree..." A pause granted the others the chance to nod their approval, which they duly did with perfect understanding. "...that we wouldn't raise objections to your project, as long as you go up to those girls and tell them everything!"

They expected some squirming and some reluctance on their friend's part.

But instead, Vittorio merely shrugged and mumbled : "Why not?"

Opening his mouth, Bernhard casually asked : "Were you already planning to do that?"

Ansaldi looked at him, while he took out his pipe. "Nope!" he declared, searching his pocket for the tobacco. "I was gathering my courage to do that!"

/

"Thank you for meeting here on such a short notice!" Ansaldi began, his nervousness not impairing his politeness.

Sitting before him, in the classroom inundated by the setting sun's light, the whole Ooarai team girls, their instructor and Shiho Nishizumi were asking themselves what the heck was he going to say that couldn't wait till tomorrow.

"I know it's not the appropriate time, your match being so near..." He motioned towards Miho. "But it couldn't wait."

Then he paused, clearly mustering the strength to go on. His hand was twitching the extinguished pipe erratically.

Finally he began again : "I was met by the other Panzer Aces yesterday!" At this declaration, Shiho's head jerked upwards, suspicion etched on her face.

"As you might know, they are my friends. They worry about me, and they are currently quite worried about my conditions..." Fidgeting with the Pipe, Ansaldi produced a small smile. "Still, they said they are fine with me issuing you a challenge, but I promised them..."

Another painful pause. Then the Italian tanker threw down his arms and blurted : "I promised them to tell you all about those supposed unconfirmed issues the magazines are writing about; Which, I may add, are at least partially true!"

That blow went straight home. Everyone's expression went from perplexed to shocked in less than a second. The only one unaffected was Shiho, who merely narrowed her eyes.

Sighing heavily, Ansaldi turned towards them, and Miho almost jumped up a bit at seeing the dejection in his eyes. "Since... since I was defeated, I have suffered, especially right after the match, from chronic insomnia; depression; and, most importantly, I have experienced bouts of erratic behavior!"

"Erratic behavior?" The voice of the master of the Nishizumi style was saying that she was hearing the confirmation of suspicions that were already there.

Ansaldi looked at her straight in the eyes. He dropped the pipe on the desk and leaned on it, as if already tired. "Yes. And there was one time when I got erratic right in the worst moment possible; when I had a tank right in my crosshairs!"

A collective gasp was the response, even from Ami's direction. That was nothing short of a nuke : a tanker renowned for his cool, losing his head during a match? A living legend admitting he had lost himself in his own depression?

Without flinching, the bearer of such unexpected news continued : "It was during a practice match with some green guys. They had potential, but they didn't know anything about how to fight in a real battle, not that it was their fault. And they kept apologizing all over the radio, which strangely enough was what made me go

ballistic..."

/

_"DIO SANTO! Sorry, we couldn't see y..."_

_"Watch where you're shooting! You almost..."_

_"Hey! Why are you stopping?"_

_"It's not easy to drive these..."_

_It was hot, inside the cramped Semovente. Not as hot as it would have been in the North African desert, but still conveniently sultry. The reek of sweat and cordite was pretty much everywhere; even breathing was harder than usual._

_As the radio kept croaking excuses and exclamations, Ansaldi was not feeling well at all. His head was light, his lungs were screaming for some nice, fresh air._

_He wondered wheter he should call off the rest of the gig, and wait for a cooler day. The blasted radio didn't help._

_In the eyepiece something moved; he squeezed his right eye, his hand immediately bolting upwards to caress the firing lever, the other ready to adjust the aim._

_A frame was creeping up from the woods. A noob taking a peek outside, most probably. You couldn't see much from a M11/39 tank even in open ground, for Christ's sake!_

_As he waited for it to become more definite, Ansaldi felt his heart beat faster. His blood was rushing in his neck, and his ears were pounding from the incessant noise from the radio._

_In his mind, there was only enough space for a single thought, stop that blasted noise! Stop those apologetic newbies, stop this heat, stop this heat, stop everything. _

_He took half a second to shut his eyes, trying to regain some calm, but it didn't help much._

_From between two larches, the tall figure of a tank crawled hesitantly forwards. Two heads were poking from the hatches, trying to locate any hostiles. Not that they would manage to see him, since he had been careful to hide his vehicle very well._

_Ansaldi's hand gripped the lever and hesitated. His aim was right on the spot : just a little to the left, and down, to show them they would be already out in a real battle. That's how they did with greenhorns._

_But something inside him clicked; with intrigued detachment, he felt his right hand rectify the aim, and right after that, the roar of the 75 mm gun dissolved everything else._

_The M11/39 didn't have the slightest chance. Even for a light tank, its mediocrity had bordered on worthlessness since it had first entered service in 1939. And not even his derivatives would have stopped such a shell._

_It crashed on its left flank, right in the rear compartment. The engine immediately started venting a thick, black smoke, reduced to a pile of burning scrap iron._

_For a brief, horrible moment, Ansaldi's mind looked at the smoking tank in his eyepiece with mild excitement, while the radio was beginning to screech with terror and shock._

_Then, that something de-clicked, and a mixture of horror, shock, disgust, nausea and revulsion overwhelmed him. Jerking himself away from such a sight, he met the horrified looks of his driver and radioman. A question was burning in their wide open eyes._

_A question for which he had no answer._

/

"My god..."

Yukari's comment was more than enough to say what was the general reaction.

The girls were pretty much shocked. Where once there had been but respect and admiration, there were utter surprise and a glint of diffidence.

The other two senior tankers were instead more angry than surprised. For them it was an even worse new.

Ansaldi slowly raised his hand. "That pretty much sums up the reaction of my team, that time. And mine, too, even if it sounds a little bit hypocrite."

"Did they survive?" Saori's screech was filled with a completely new fear. After all, she had started Sensha-Do with the least knowledge, and almost as an afterthought.

A sad smile was her answer. "They did, with nothing more serious than one or two first-degree burns." Collective sigh of relief. "But that doesn't matter. It matters that, when I should have held my fire, I lapsed for a split second, and if they had been using a petrol-engined tank I would find myself with blood in my hands!"

Looking down at the floor, Ansaldi stopped talking for a bit, seemingly lost in thought. No one dared to interrupt the silence, not even Shiho, who was clearly eager to say something.

Without lifting his gaze, the man said : "For a year and a half, I didn't even come near to a tank. A shrink came in to help, and, had he asked me, I would have thrown myself out of the Space Shuttle, to get healed. For four months, Bernhard and the others," referring to the other four Aces, "never let me out of their sights for more than three minutes."

"Then life started over again, and I got enough confidence back to try my hand another time. Nothing bad happened. I was seemingly cured..." The 'seemingly' loomed in the classroom like a far-off menace. "...but the shrink also told me that any time was a good time for me to suffer a relapse." He finished, scanning the room once again.

Detaching himself from the desk to pace, he surmised : "I believe any other explanation would be superfluous!"

All eyes went to Miho, who had assisted to the confession with increasing horror. It was hard for her to believe that this had happened to such a figure; and again, for the simple consequence of losing once after a continuous streak of victories.

Opening her mouth, she hesitated, not really knowing what to say.

"I...Indeed!" she finally managed to utter.

Ansaldi went over to her, towering over her seated figure. His eyes, downcast and half-closed when he had told them these events, were now back to the serious look they knew better.

His right hand went on her shoulder. "I should have told this as soon as I had expressed my intention to challenge you. I apologize for failing to do so, but... It was hard for me." Hardly anyone would have blamed him for that, with a likely exception. "Still, my intentions remain unchanged. I firmly believe that a match against you would prove challenging enough for me to satisfy and placate my spirit, thus preventing this from happening again."

Biting his lip, the captain breathed deeply and declared : "But I will understand if, in the light of what I told you today, you will decide not to accept it. Not that it would be correct for me to do otherwise!"

Taking a step backwards, he surveyed all their faces. They were scared, shocked, horrified... but not as much as he had thought.

His eyes darted on Miho; what he saw was not fear. It was a gleam of disappointment, perhaps... and something else? Could it be... understanding? That, as young as she was, she could already understand where the drive for victory and glory had brought him?

Suddenly shaken by such a possibility, Ansaldi backed away hastily, his face showing disbelief and sadness. Then, he regained his composure, and straightened up.

"I will assist to the Finals, and will issue my challenge after it, if you won't send word to me to refuse already. As I said, the choice is yours; and please, don't feel obliged to accept, just to relieve my ghosts. Even if it may be my only chance, I can't say I deserve it!"

And with a bow, he turned away and pretty much fled the scene.


End file.
